


Stung

by separatedrain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, In which April doesn't get possessed until AFTER she sleeps with Cas, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 07:18:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/separatedrain/pseuds/separatedrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cas gets stabbed by April after sleeping with her, Dean thinks he may have just lost his ex-angel in more ways than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stung

**Author's Note:**

> Written before 9x03 actually aired (based on the promo pics), so a little canon-divergent. ...I still prefer my version, if I'm completely honest. ([Tumblr edition here](http://separatedrain.tumblr.com/post/64586375158/when-april-finally-drops-dean-is-at-cas-side))

When April finally drops, Dean is at Cas’ side before her vessel has even hit the floor. Holy crap, that’s a lotta blood. It’s more black than red, bubbling up from the gaping hole in Cas’ stomach like one of those fucking chocolate fountains.

Dean clamps a hand over the wound and Cas groans, eyes opening just a margin. “Sorry,” Dean says. “We’re gonna get you all patched up, okay? Don’t worry,” and it sounds about a million times more reassuring than he actually feels.

“Funny,” Cas mutters, voice even rougher around the edges than usual. Dean’s about to chalk it up to him being delirious from pain and blood loss as he fails to see what could be even remotely amusing about their current predicament, but then Cas continues. “How the blade that would’ve killed me is _less_ effective now that… there’s nothing left of me to obliterate.”

“I’ll tell Alanis to write a song about it.” Cas blinks up at him (slowly, too slowly), frown of pain mixing with one of confusion. “Never mind. There’s plenty of you left that matters to me, okay?” His voice sounds traitorously high and breathy to his own ears, and he resolutely shoves all emotion aside as much as possible as Cas’ eyelids threaten to slide closed again. “Hey. _Hey._ Stay with me.”

“Not going anywhere,” Cas says earnestly, and Dean feels like he’s talking to the one person where he might actually need to specify _yeah, well, good, but don’t die on me either_. He may have accidentally said it out loud, as Cas murmurs some vague reassurance while Dean slips an arm under his back, hooking the other underneath his legs.

He lifts him out of the chair, sending a fresh wave of blood streaming to the ground and eliciting a sharp cry of pain from Cas, before his eyes roll back and he goes completely limp in Dean’s arms.

Dean sets his charge down on the floor, cursing under his breath. “Dean?” Sam calls, halted and turned around from where he was already halfway out the apartment. Dean ignores him, bloodied hand back on the oozing wound as the other frantically feels for a pulse. It’s there. Rapid, weak, but still there, at least.

“Dean,” Sam says more urgently, now back at his side. “What are you doing? We need to get him to a hospital. C’mon, let’s go.”

“I don’t think there’s time,” he says, not even trying to suppress the note of panic anymore. He reaches his decision and looks up at Sam—well, or rather. “Heal him.”

“What?” Sam says, confusion evident on his face.

“Not you.”

There’s a flash of blue behind Sam’s eyes, and then it’s definitely not Sam anymore who asks, “Are you sure?”

No. But. “Yes.” Dean runs a shaky hand across his face. “I—I can’t lose him, okay? I can’t.”

Ezekiel nods.

* * * * *

Cas sleeps and Dean watches over him. Dean would probably laugh about the role reversal if the situation wasn’t as dire.

Ezekiel had done what he could; apparently, what with he himself still healing, mojo’ing Cas back together completely proved more difficult than expected. But at least he’d gotten things back to but-a-scratch level, and not in the _Holy Grail_ sense anymore. He’d also assured Dean neither Sam nor Cas would remember any of it.

Which is just great, isn’t it? Maybe keeping secrets from _both_ of the people he cares most about will cancel them out, somehow. Peachy.

So now Cas is sleeping it off and Dean is perched at his side. He’d started out in a chair, but when it made his back ache after a couple hours, he decided he was being ridiculous and crawled up on the memory foam. It is his bed, after all, and it’s plenty wide for two, even if he’s still choosing to sit upright against the headboard on top of the covers.

Cas finally stirs, gaze travelling around the room in confusion. “Morning, sleeping beauty,” Dean says.

“Dean? How did I get here?” Cas attempts to lift himself up, but pauses halfway, wincing.

“Easy there.” Dean gently pushes him back down into the pillows. “What do you remember?”

Cas considers it for a moment. “I was with a woman. Her name is April. She was kind to me.”

“I’m sure she was,” Dean says, “right up to the point where she got possessed and jumped you.” He really, really hopes Cas won’t press for details.

Thankfully — and maybe it’s because the guy still looks like he might sink back into unconsciousness any second, but Dean’ll take all the small blessings he can get right now — Cas just says “Oh.” Processes it for a moment, then, “Did you kill her?” Dean replies in the affirmative, and Cas nods, a little sadly. “She was nice.”

Dean pointedly pretends it doesn’t sting even a little bit. Then Cas sleepily rolls onto his side and slings an arm across his waist like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She wasn’t you, though,” he murmurs, and then he’s out like a light again.

Dean genuinely has no idea if things just got a lot better or a whole lot worse.


End file.
